Numb to the feeling
by Halfamoonphase
Summary: After the world comes crashing down, only then do people begin to look inside and find places to grow. After struggling with addiction for many years, perhaps a reason to found to reach out. Heavy drug use.


I do hope this story turns your stomach in many ways!

Enjoy, The Moonphase

Heard you got a heart, let me see  
Heard you got a heart, let me see  
I need you to split that thing with me  
Yeah, I need you to split that thing with me, girl  
Heard you're skipping meals, losing sleep  
Well, I've been doing the same honestly  
Well, I look like a fucking walking corpse, girl  
Say the words, "R.I.P." cause

(chase Atlantic )

"NO!"

Whippers of the dark sun viciously called out to the soul standing on the line of life.

The tapered light mixed into the descending darkness. Two blue windows peered into the ongoing light. Faces, one by one faster and faster rushed into the brilliant light. The soul with blue eyes still had their color. The glowing aura of his flesh contrasted from those around him. The others surrounding him were grey. Their blue shadows skid across the taper of the light. Paving the way to an orange circle of flaming light. The lifeless creatures seemed to flow carelessly towards the flaming mouth. The blue-eyed child of the mortal man had control of his of his flow towards the light.

At first, his eyes had been drawn to the lull of the flaming lips. Th sweet sound of the crackling saliva had called his name. The voice of the hellish creature was thick like honey but sweet like his mother's voice should have been. There had been no mother. There had been no voice he could fall in love with. Instead, he was raised with stain glass knees, bruised by the kneeling he was forcing to do. He was raised in a wooden box that listened the horror and the beauty of mankind's nature and somehow found forgiveness for all who confessed.

He did in this moment what he had been taught to do in a time of terror, his hands clasped, and his voice softly spoke,

"Our father who art in heaven"

The light seemed to be fading with every word.

"Hallowed be thy name"

The taper of light seemed to be fading and the tunnel lengthened.

"Thy kingdom come"

Soon the flaming lips became nothing more than a speck of light. The same light that lit up the man's eyes. Darkness was growing.

Thy will be done  
On earth as it is in heaven.

The dark begun to turn in a state of chaos. The flaming lips had been silenced and now the man was seeing shades of grey. The shades of grey begun to shape themselves into memories.

Give us this day our daily bread;  
And forgive us our trespasses

Unfolding before him were sights of a short woman with a contoured nose. Her plush lips lurched as if she was about to same something. The words were swallowed as a man threw his words along with a glass tumbler. The liquids of the glass splattered over cream paper marked with a dark graphite. The darkness of the liquid gave shadow to the piece of work laid thoughtfully in the floor. The shards of glass produced a thick red paint that highlighted the work.

As we forgive those who trespass against us

Soon, the vision had shaped into something new. The barrel of a pistol and a screaming man created the scene. In the eyes of the gun holder, himself, hate. "You killed him," Flaming word tore from the man's throat! "He Is dead!" The light of the fire presented the rage burning in the man with blue eyes. His finger rested carelessly over the metal trigger. Quietly, the soul called out to Saint Lucy. He prayed she would fill his heart with a reason not to kill this pathetic creature. The soul kept the gun pointed at the other covered in blood. "don't you think there has been enough bloodshed," A small voice beckoned the soul's attention. The crimson hair brought heavy contrast to the body stepping forward in hopes to change the outcome of the scene unfolding. As the red head made his plea, a soul was released from its vessel.

And lead us not into temptation,

Time flashed forward and the man sat up in a bed. Sweat covered his body he had just….just killed a man. Where was the after math. The grey sheets slid slowly over his skinny legs. Beside him, laid a man. Thick, red hair and two green eyes the man had a holy smile. His presences tasted like sandalwood and his clothes smelt like burnt Tabaco. The blue eyed man's clothes laid on top of each other in the floor. Together, two naked bodies shared the warmth of a king sized bed. A bed which had seen the first of the love and the worst of the love. Th red headed man reached over to the other in the bed. His other hand picked up a cigarette. The red head fumbled with the stick in his hand for a moment. He then drew his other hand past the blue eyed an and retrieved a lighter. Cupping the stick which loosely rested in his mouth, he sparked the flame. The mix of a drug and Tabaco crackled while the newly lit fire burnt it. The man discarded the lighter and pulled the cigarette from his lips. Slowly, like his words laced with honey, smoke rolled from his lips. Like a water fall, gravity pulled the grey ghost to the mono toned comforter. The strong scent of the smoke filled the room. "Matt put that out." The blue-eyed man said without reason. the red head looked at him with a devilish smile. "Last time I checked you were the one who paid for the last strain and you would have my head if I wasted your money"

The non-smoker bit his lip. "is it, you want my mouth somewhere else… perhaps you see me as no useful… you do only enjoy things that have value to you… let me be of service to you after I finish this hit…" he took a deep breath and held the smoke in longer this time around. For Matt the world slowed down and his vision set to the left. He leaned over to a marble ash tray and tapped the cigarette out. Matt smiled and popped his neck. He slid off the bed and dropped to his knees. His eyes brought to Michael a sensitive feeling. Matt didn't wait, on the others command their bodies clashed. Matt's chest heaved in pleasure. The unexpected position shot Adeline into matts veins. His veins ran fast with cocktail of drugs. It was the only way he could handle Mello's terrifying temper and his strict way of life. Matt built his life to match Michael the best he could. He always fell short but the pills helped him meet his lover. Matt dug desperately into Michael back. Michael's eyes were glued the bottle of pills that scattered on Matt's side of the bed. Vicodin…. Matt preferred drug. Something he had been on since he was eighteen. Maybe He should have stopped it. Life, like most times got in the way of recovery.

But deliver us from evil.

A flash of light ended the prayer and the sound of screams filled the man's ears. Darkness but only for a moment sat in front of his eyes. Soon his eyes opened. One, clear as day the other burning with hell fire.

Mother Mary…. the faint words rolled over his lips carelessly, like a rain drop.

"Michael, I've got you" Honey…..sweet honey dripped from the octaves that man carried.

"Stay with me"

Honey at its purest state.

"we are going to make it out."

Raw honey dripping with regret and pain.

The red head with diamond eyes covers by yellow lenses scoped the area around. Had he lived. Was he in one piece. Who was the woman with? Like a train, the pain hit. His nerves all screamed their own tune. It felt as if his skin was folding into its self. Gasping for breath the allowed his joints to move. First his fingers played the air like a harp. The joints in in his arms slowly released the bones and allowed automated movement.

"Be still"

The stubborn man with pain that had him on fire let the rest of his body move. He squirmed to break free from the ground, but his body had no the strength to so. So the man laid on the ground waiting alas the other desperately tried to move him. He got the weak body off the ground and carried it out of the hellish scene. Behind the two were the reminisce of anger, hate….an earth without god.

"Michael, there is blood dripping from you how do we stop this."

Michael felt his eyes tumble back and forth in his head. His vision remanded him of the blurred pictures that were artfully crafted into the window which he was raised around. Matt, the red head, covered the bleeding side with a jacket and soft lowered Michael into the car.

Everything felt like an enemy to the side of his face that was bleeding. The cold air of the December night sent mixture dangers to make him pay for the wretched thing he had done on this earth. It felt as if mother nature herself was punishing him. The wound was a burn. The burn spills his face in half. Thankfully the burn had missed his lips but never the less traced down his neck and spread over his shoulder like splattered paint. The right side of his face looked like the depiction of hell in bosh's garden of earthly delights. The many ridges of brunt skin secreted his sins. The yellow liquids produced a fowl and un-holy taste in his mouth.

The drive home felt the same as it had when they were teenagers. Matt was driving recklessly home and he, in the back on another plane in this world. The only defense was he was in hell in this moment, not heaven. The problem on the table now was the third degree burns which would painfully scar his body. "should I take you to.."

Michael cut him off with a no before he could even suggest the hospital.

The rest of the drive was silent.

Matt hustled Michael into the small apartment. The poor man was still squirming in pain. His nervous were enduring waves of torture. Matt helped the fragile man onto an older couch and pulled himself away. Matt was no doctor nor could he ever be one. His clothes were soaked in his lovers blood. His nervous were mentally on fire. He looked down at Michael who was moaning in pain. This was the first time he had ever seen this man cry since he had left the home.

Matt rushed through the rather large apartment looking for towels and anything else to comfort Michael. As he ran through the hall, he made a quick right into a bathroom. This was his personal bathroom. He threw open a cabinet. He picked up several pill bottles and hurried back to the chasm Micheal had his hand over his mouth in a fit of coughing. Blood stained Michael hand and fear of those flaming lips slowly sunk into his mind. A mess of tears and sweat stained his face.

Out of pure panic, Matt opened a bottle and held out a pill. The aurora of the room changed. The walls seemed to disappear. The sight of the monster in Matt's was the only thing both of them could see. Mell felt his soul lean to the left.

And lead us not into temptation,

And lead us not into temptation,

And lead us not into temptation,

And lead us not into temptation,

Soon the moment broken, and their eyes met.

With all the strength he had, mall shoved Matt.

And out of panic matt pushed back..

" you are taking this"

Matt thought for a quick moment…. There was no was malls was going to be able to swallow this with blood in his throat he would bring it back up and would be a waste of money.

"Trust me on this one"

Micheal felt anxiety boil in him he knew exactly what was about to happen. He let his arms drop to his side. The rested on the couch the same way Christ held his hands in the last supper. His blue eyes locked onto the light grey wall. Matt kept apologizing. Tears were running out of his own eyes.

"I promise ill find something clean"

Back through the maze of the house he went searching. This moment made him feel like nothing more than a rock. As a child, Matt wouldn't even touch any medicine but these days the idea of living without one of the many demons made him sweat. In the same cold bathroom he pulled open a drawer. The sound Michael coughing shook his soul. This was for the pain only. Nothing more. He would not catch a demon by taking one like this. He repeated the thought over and over in his mind. His fingers danced over his last needle. The last clean thing left in this home. The last scarred by their mistakes thing. Perhaps he could give Michael half and take the other half. He battled thoughts like that for the duration of the prep. he hurried back to the cold living room where Michael sat. Matt got down on his knees and held one of his lovers arm. Matt hooked one arm around the other man and spoke soft words to him. He couldn't stand watching Michael in pain like this. Maybe they should have waited it out but Matt didn't think he could. He plunged the kneeled into the man's arm. Michael felt his body shake at the hit of the liquid. He swore he would never start again. He felt the demon spill from the flaming lips inside of his mind. He gripped tightly to Matt" you got it "He heaved.

Once again he was floating. Matt's movement smeared the scene before him. Lights dimmed slowly, and the first trip begun. He felt the nervous in his face freeze over. His body. Like stitched scars, his demons busted from their hiding places. Who was he. What had he done to Matt all these years. Matt was moving his body to the bedroom but Michael mind was still on that couch. Why had death picked the memory of the two in bed while Matt was high to be the last he saw of Matt. Matt was so beautiful and he never told him. With the gang in pursuit for 2 years there had been no time for slippery romance. Love, something they were never thought. The idea of love was formulated in a closet. A closet in the church welcome area and Matt on his knees.

Michael was high. The pain that spread through his body like stream of electrons came to the nerve endings and numbed its self. The rest of the night melted together like hot wax. Matt made very little conversation. After he had helped Michael into bed there was nothing left to do but let the injured man rest. Throughout the night, Matt changed the wraps that held together Michael's face.

The next morning hit Michael like a train. As his eyes cranked open and he was met with the pain once again. His face felt like it was still on fire. When he moved, the skin on the left side tightened up. "Matt," he called through the dull apartment. The grey sheets had slid down and spread over the floor. Michael looked down at this still clothed body. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of Matt. The bottle of pills caught his eyes first. The wooden box was closed and tucked behind a pack of cigarettes. Vicodin. He looked over at the clock next, eight. Matt was probably wasted but the moments following disproved his haunting thought. Matt walked into the room with two towels and a cream. "Good morning sunshine." Matt's voice was soft like honey.

How was it an angel lived in this hell hole. "Michael, I wanted to say sorry about doing that I couldn't bear to watch you worm in pain any longer.

It was Michael's eyes that went soft this time. Matt had been trying for months to get off that stuff. Michael had done it two years ago, Matt could do it too. "  
Don't buy anymore." Michael grabbed Matt's hand, "nothing Is going to change if you have them in the house."

The very idea of no having that pill sent Matt's body spiraling. A storm brewed in his brain. His thoughts ran far and wide on a plane that did not belong to him. The thunder shook his anxiety and the waves of depression got stronger. Demons with similar faces pounded behind his eyelids to be let free. The demons made his blood run cold. His heart stopped. The cold cavity was no longer a hearth. The cavity felt like the barren tundra. The winter in his blood mixed with the storm in his brain.


End file.
